Skinny Love
by Kathey27
Summary: He sits there for a while, gasping for invisible air and before he goes back to sleep that night he lets out a low, "happy birthday jess". It's not enough, not nearly enough, but it's all he can give her. AU with some Dean/Ruby splattered in just 'cause.


**A/N: This is dedicated to the beautiful Sam Winchester on his birthday today! I hope your day turns out demon, ghost and monster free and that Dick Roman leaves you the hell alone for the next few hours because if anyone deserves a peaceful birthday, it's you Sammy.**

**I tried to make this as less depressing as possible, but this is me we're talking about here so yeah…that didn't go so well. I hope the ending makes up for that though.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything, I'd shower those boys and their angel with lots and lots of hugs and kisses.**

**xxxxxx**

**Skinny Love:**

January passes by the first year with nothing celebrated.

Dad's still missing and Dean's never been too big with birthdays so it passes by quietly.

Sam goes to sleep and hides the half-assed present he'd managed to scrounge up and wakes up a few hours later, skin set ablaze with phantom flames and throat clogged with silent screams.

He sits there for a while, gasping for invisible air and before he goes back to sleep that night he lets out a low, "happy birthday jess".

It's not enough, not nearly enough, but it's all he can give her.

xxxxxx

January next year passes by with a drunken confession.

It's not too long after Madison and that hole still hurts far too much to even try and breathe her name so Sam goes out and gets drunk. Dean stays behind, surprisingly, something about not wanting to spend his birthday picking up his baby brother off a bar floor. Sam had scoffed of course because he was _not_ a lightweight.

Then again…the floor does look a lot farther away than it had an hour ago and his hands won't stop shaking and whenever he closes his eyes for more than a few seconds he gets flashes of long amber hair and soft eyes mixed in with gorgeous blonde hair and warm eyes.

He looks down dejectedly at the half filled glass before him. The scotch is burning more than it should be.

"I could have loved her Jess."

This gets washed away with a shot of tequila.

xxxxxx

January passes the third year tragically.

Dean's still not used to Ruby and Ruby still likes to poke fun at Dean whenever she shows up to save their asses and it's all Sam can do to not spin around and tell them "shut the fuck up and just kiss already!" whenever they're in the same room.

It's only been a few weeks but he can see the sparks between them and knows that as soon as Dean gets over his prejudices, they are going to have something special. Something to outlast lifetimes.

Exactly what him and Jess never got.

He spends the night alone while Dean goes out to get laid and Ruby goes out to find a new lead (i.e. go fuck each other and try to pretend it means nothing) and when the numbers on the alarm clock start to blur together he tries to fall asleep.

He gasps awake a few hours later and there's sweat everywhere and his face is covered in tears and he barely has time to make it to the toilet before his stomach is emptying itself.

He figures he deserves it; he allowed himself to forget.

xxxxxx

January, the fourth year, is lonely.

It's after the Siren incident and Ruby and Dean still aren't talking to each other (_how does one apologize for trying to strangle their significant other because a sexed up monster asked them to?)_ and Cas isn't looking at him like he's a monster anymore but the uneasiness is still there and this time around, he doesn't forget.

Sam leaves the awkward motel room and makes his way outside and spends the entire night staring up at opens dark skies and pleading with her to forgive him.

"I didn't mean to."

"I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear."

"It'll never happen again, I'll never stoop that low again."

"Amelia can't get to me anymore, it's okay now."

"I'll fix this, I promise."

"_Please_, tell me you forgive me. Tell me you can still love me."

Cas shows up near the end and places a hesitant hand on his shoulders. "She found peace."

It helps, a little.

xxxxxx

January, the year of The End, passes by solemnly.

It's been a few weeks since they lost Jo and Ellen and Ruby won't talk to anyone besides Cas and Dean won't stop hitting things and Bobby wants them the hell out of his house and Sam can't do anything right.

So many people, so many allies, so many _friends_ (**family**) have died and he knows it's not going to get any better.

He knows that Lucifer can kill Ruby with a snap of his fingers and he knows that Lucifer can crush Cas without letting out a single breath and he knows that Lucifer visits Dean too and whispers lies into his ears late at night. He knows all of this.

He also knows that he has to go see her.

He hasn't been to California in a while, a long, long while and he barely remembers the route (doesn't _want_ to remember the route) but the Impala takes him there like it is second nature and he makes it just fine.

He goes to what used to be their shop a few blocks from the campus and although it's been a few years he covers up because his face is easily recognized and he _is_ still legally dead. He buys those white flowers she always loved but he could never find the proper name of and takes a long sniff of them as soon as he's outside.

(They smell like ashes).

He goes to her grave and it's a bit dirty and washed over and there are weeds everywhere and it's there that he remembers that the only family Jess had really had was a forty year old uncle who could never be bothered to call, let alone visit her grave.

He spends the afternoon lying besides her grave and his throat gets tight and his stomach hurts and his eyes sting and when the pain's passed…he smiles.

The grin stretches across his face deliciously and it feels so great that it leads to laughter which leads to silent shakes which leads to tears which leads to sobs being pressed against a dirty patch of grass.

He leaves quietly.

xxxxxx

January, the sixth year, passes by insignificantly.

Sam doesn't feel…anything really when the day rolls around and he frowns lightly. He puts a hand to his chest and rubs at the place where his heart resides and it feels stiff and awkward and numb for some reason.

He glances over at Christian's sleeping form and Mark's back as he (silently) gets ready for the day and tries to feel…something.

He knows what day it is; has been awaiting it for weeks, hoping that the memory would give him some sensation back. _Any_ sensation back.

When he can't feel anything but hollow he shrugs, gets out of bed and grabs a beer.

(His chest hurts for the rest of the day).

xxxxxx

January, the 2nd year post-The End (to him it's the sixth year but up there it's the seventh and down _there_ it's longer, much longer and he knows to Dean and Ruby it's a bit longer too), goes by vaguely.

Cas is still being secretive and hanging around sleazy, British angels and Ruby's crumbling at the hinges over some identity crisis (which he gets because the Ruby he knows now and the Ruby he had first met? Completely different people. Different enough to break her) and Dean won't stop drinking and finding new excuses for it and he's still trying to wrap his head around all that he did while he was soulless.

It's the seventh (_maybe_) year and when he wakes up that day it still feels as fresh as the first year and the motel sheets are as scratchy as the first year and his throat burns just like the first year and his limps are numb just like the first year and he can't feel much of anything.

He gets out of bed and realizes that it's all the same. All of it. The numbness the wounds the memories the lack of pain. They've been constants for the past seven (_why not_) years and they will always be there to remind him of what he could never have.

He goes to the bathroom and glances at the dirty sink mirror. He grabs at a handful of hair.

Two hours later his hair once again barely brushes his ears and Dean can't make any more Pearl Jam jokes. It's the first time it's short again in seven (_who the hell even really knows anymore_) years and he likes it.

He buys those flowers he still doesn't know the name off and this time, they only smell a little bit like ashes.

xxxxxx

January, the eighth year, passes…interestingly, to say the least.

Bobby's a ghost and Ruby's off taking care of Cas and Dean's grumpy with his girlfriend gone and is in no mood for celebrating. Again.

So Sam says _fuck it_ and decides to have the day for himself. Dick Roman isn't doing much of anything and Frank's still missing (twenty bucks says he's dead) and the world wasn't going to be ending, not on that day at least and he deserves a little something damn it.

He grabs his jacket and sneaks out and somehow finds his way to a snowy park bench a couple of miles away. It's chilly out and the kids are running around, screaming their heads off in delight of the snow and it's then that he gets approached.

A little girl, no more than five walks up to him, blonde hair wrapped up in braids and she's smiling and plots down right besides him and he can only really focus on all the bright colors she's wearing. Her style of dressing can only be described as…kooky.

"Hi!" She chirps, swinging her legs side to side and humming lightly.

Sam glances around a few times at this, making sure it was him she was talking to. It was.

"Umm…hey."

She offers out a bright grin at his greeting and nods at his hair. "You look funny 'ike that."

He doesn't bother trying to fix it; his hair never did pay much attention to what he wanted. "Should you be out here alone?" Is what he says instead because there is no way in heck this kid should be wondering around this time of day.

"My mommy's busy."

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing else, trying to find the best way to proceed. He loves kids, he does but Dean's the one who usually deals with them, not him and right now…it's showing.

"You looked sad so I wanted to say hi. I don't like it when people are sad."

He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat and finds he can't.

"I'm not sad." He offers lightly but the kid's smart and only grins wider at that.

"Mommy says not to 'olerate 'iars."

A low smile finds its way onto his lips at the way her eyebrows scrunch up at trying to pronounce the whole sentence correctly.

"But I'm _not_ sad."

The grin turns sad at this and it's all he can do not to hug her.

They hold each others gazes for what feels like seconds but is probably actually minutes and it's only when a tired, worried voice cuts through their concentration that they stop.

"Jessica Tyler! Get your butt back over here right now!"

The girl – Jessica – offers him one more grin, presses a small item into his hands and races off. "Bye Mister!"

He's too shocked to do anything, to say anything, so he sits there and watches as the small blonde (Jessica. Freaking Jessica) walks away with her mommy.

When he finally gets over the shock (plenty of little blonde girls are named Jessica) he looks down to notice a single white flower in his hands.

(He gets back to the motel room and remembers the name. White flowering maple flower).

xxxxxx

January, on the ninth year, passes beautifully.

That's the only way to describe it.

Cas is back and once again sane, Ruby's human and pregnant with his nephew, Dean's trying to stay sober, Bobby's finally crossed over and Leviathan's are a thing of the past.

All these good things considered, when the day rolls around, the pain and numbness, like always, still hit him as soon as he opens his eyes.

He sits in bed for a few moments and silently contemplates slitting his throat. Just to end the torture. Then he looks over at Cas and how the angel still sleeps rigid and over at Ruby and Dean and how they're holding themselves tight and decides against it. Maybe some other day.

He gets up, dresses, buys white flowering maple flowers from the florist a few blocks over and he's heading down to the local park when he sees her.

Her.

The hair, the eyes, the smile. It's all the same, just as he barely remembered.

The hair's shorter and the eyes aren't as bright and the smile could be bigger but…

…it's her.

He glances down at the flowers, smiles lightly and breathes out a silent: "thank you jess".

He goes over to her, slowly and hesitantly (he's not the same person he was the first time he saw her…what if she no longer wants him?) and grins at the smile that overtakes her face as soon as their eyes connect.

"Sarah…long time no see."


End file.
